My dad is getting rid of a trench coat. It’s a tan, button-front, dry-clean only, J.C. Penney, mostly polyester trench coat. He hasn’t worn it in over a decade and can’t even remember why he bought it to begin with. Maybe it was for a trip he took with my mother somewhere. How it ended up in his closet is a mystery.

He says it takes up way too much room and it doesn’t have enough pockets anyway. And during our coat discussion, my mom starts cracking up. Just giggling. She simply finds the whole thing funny, and I find her finding it funny equally funny.

When I start giggling, my mom laughs harder which starts my dad up. His laugh is mostly silent, with little bursts of sound that make his whole body shake with little eruptions. He snorts. This triggers fresh rounds of laughter.

My mom has tears running down her face now, and my dad is taking off his glasses to wipe his eyes. I’m saying “ouch!!” as the muscles behind my ears are starting to hurt, my dad grips his belly and also says “ouch!”. More peals of laughter.

After a few rounds of this, we start to re-enter the atmosphere, sniffling, drying our tears, punctuated with giggles. As we catch our breath, I realize that this moment has been on my bucket list since I was born.

A moment of laughing together until we cry. It’s beyond a bucket list. It’s a moment gifted, and a moment joyfully received.